Carthage
by Kameroni
Summary: The allegiances of the Wilson family are always shifting, and the prodigal son, Carthage, finds that his old life holds both great danger and great promise. With traitorous but good intentions, Carthage must face both his own doubt and that of his family to reach his own, heroic future. Semi-AU, OCs and more! Season one to HOPEFULLY Season 3 Material mostly plays off of comics.
1. Chapter 1

Beginnings

January 1, 1995

"Give me the child." A lean, red haired woman lay on her side behind a barred door. On the other side was a stone corridor, crisscrossed by water mains. They dripped in a melancholic rhythm, reflecting the melancholic, monotone words that rang out through the tunnel.

"No. You won't take him from me!"

"You're bringing this upon yourself, Volcana. You didn't want him before, I can't imagine anything has changed."

"He's my son!"

"Interesting that you claim him now. But I have great plans for the boy."

Flames began to roll off the woman, searing the skin of the man outside the bars. He barely blinked. "If you don't leave, I will-"

"Burn your son until he's medium well? You're unstable, unfit to care for him."

She gasped and the fires blinked out. "I refuse to let you win, Slade!"

"Volcana…" He held a finger out to catch a drop of water. "I already have," he said, brushing the cool water across the bars. "You want what's best for him. Don't you? Do you think you can care for him? Do you think that who you are will benefit the child? That he'll be safe around you? He won't. Look at him, and know that if you keep him... He will die."

Sizzling tears streaming down her face, she choked on her sobs. The fire in her bones was trying to seep out through her frustration. She could control it, she thought. Slade flicked the bars, firing the droplet of water at Volcana. It hit the back of her exposed neck, shattering her concentration like glass. Fire flicked out, illuminating the face of the baby in her arms. She screeched in fear and dropped him. Slade smirked. "I did warn you. You should have heeded my words. Now... hand over my son."

Sniffs continued to crack the thick, almost tangible silence. "W-Will he be safe?"

"He will."

Volcana slowly stood, and brought the baby to the barred door, cradling him in her arms. "Thank you, Volcana. This is what's best."

"I'll be back for him," she said, face contorted with anger. "That's _my_ promise."

"And I don't doubt you'll fulfill it," Slade said, breaking the lock on the door with his bare hand. Alarms began to sound as the door swung open. Volcana gently placed the baby into the crook of one of Slade's arms. "That is, if you could." With his free hand, he snatched a handgun from his belt and fired. Volcana clutched her abdomen and staggered back as dark red blood seeped through her fingers. Their son began to cry at the loud noise.

"But… You made a promise..."

"My promise ensured my son's safety. Not yours." He walked away, twirling the gun on his finger while she slumped to the ground. "They were going to dissect you anyway. Consider that an anesthetic." Four heavily armed guards came jogging down the corridor, their rhythmic footfalls echoing in unison. The beat was interrupted by two loud gunshots, shattering the face plates of the front two guards. He dashed and turned his back to a body, using it as a shield. Whipping his pistol back into his belt, he slung his upper body forward, kicking the body at the guards and slipping an Uzi into his hand. Unconciously, he whirled in a way that his body protected the baby. He sprayed the remaining two guards with bullets and walked to the exit, passing a bullet-riddled sign that read, Cadmus: Project Firestorm & Son. A heavy iron door ended the corridor, and Slade took the opportunity to try fixating his mask on his face with his fingertips, still holding the Uzi. Failing, he sighed and set the baby down. With a slightly confused look on his face, he ordered the baby. "Stay."

Slade took his free hand and connected the skeletal orange mask, then bent to retrieve his son. "The breach is in there! Crimson Guard isn't responding!" Slade scooped up the baby and spun to power an immense kick to the massive door, sending it flying off its hinges. Silence follows as all the guards ready their weapons. Slade steps forward, his baby son in one hand, and a fully automatic weapon in the other. One of the soldiers cried out into his radio, "It's Deathstroke! I repeat, it's Deathstroke!"

"Don't move!" A squad captain shouted.

"You take yourself very seriously." Slade raised his Uzi and filled the captain with bullets before ducking into the corridor for cover. "Anyone else?"

"Fire!"

"I asked for it." Deathstroke vaulted high over the hail of bullets, one even grazing his boot. He landed in the ranks of guards, sliding his Promethium broadsword off his back. With a spinning slice, and no more than four swings, the rest were dismantled. He sheathed his sword, and with his gloved hand, wiped a few drops of blood off his crying baby's face. "There, there." The wailing eased. "You're alright, I'm here."

The baby quieted. "Good. Now, we have somewhere to be." And so Deathstroke left the bloody battlefield of a lab behind him, a serene child in his arms.


	2. Chapter 2

Cold Feet

Midway City, July 4, 2010

"Icicle Sr.! Surrender! I'm not afraid to hit an old man!"

A blurry figure leapt between support beams of the warehouse. "Come out and face me, you _cowardly_ , pathetic excuse of a hero!"

"Just remember…" The figure jumped down in an arc to the ground. His knees buckled with a crack, before they shifted back into place and he stood upright. "You asked for it." The figure turned out to be an adolescent boy, with wavy brownish-blonde hair, wrapped in a suit comprised of a rich brown plastique armor wrapped in burnt orange leather coverings. Bronze cylinders were attached to the underside of his leather gauntlets, but Icicle Sr. couldn't determine their purpose.

"Just a boy? Ha! Here I thought the Hawks were playing coy."

"Okay, a) nobody in this generation knows what 'coy' means, b) Your condescending statement sounds like a nursery rhyme, and c) I'm much worse than the Hawks, Icy-Pop."

"Sure, kid." Icicle tossed a few metallic pellets at the boy. He smirked in response and flicked his wrist into a clawed hand. Billows of flame erupted from the cylinder under his wrist and contained itself in his fingers. Vapor hissed from the cryotechnic pellets, and the boy countered every one with a curvy streak of fire. "Seriously? That's the wittiest I've been in six months! To be completely honest, I.. couldn't decide which one to say." Icicle threw a punch, which the hero gripped with both hands and lifted, using Icicle's weight to break the arm. He let go and stepped back, satisfied. But Icicle was too. The boy glanced down to find two flashing blue devices on his gauntlet. They hissed and flash-froze his arm, the ice expanding up to his shoulder. Icicle stood, chuckling, but he was interrupted when the boy snap kicked him in the jaw, sending him flying backwards.

The hero slammed his frozen arm against a nearby metal shelf until the ice cracked. Glass shattered behind him, a window high on the wall. Two majestic, winged warriors dived through and swept into the warehouse like Olympian gods. Hawkman hefted two Thanagarian axes, while Hawkgirl twirled her mace. "Identify yourself," he spoke.

"Or eat my mace," Hawkgirl finished.

The boy sighed. "How come when you break public property, you're heroes, but when I do it, I'm labeled a super-criminal?"

Hawkman sighed. "Look, kid, it's been a long day. Just give up what you're stealing or whatever and surrender."

"Seriously? Known villain on the floor with broken teeth, costume-clad vigilante... How come Batman can do it?"

"You're clearly not Batman," said Hawkgirl.

"That's true. They call me Lucky Ducky." He saluted, spun around, and ran away through the warehouse. The Hawks took flight, staying close behind him. Lucky Ducky leapt into the air, spinning and spewing flame from his wrists. He landed running and continued with a screen of fire behind him. He glanced back, seeing Hawkman as he threw one of his axes. The teen turned 180 and leapt backwards, catching the axe between his palms. "Sick trophy." He returned to his run, just as Hawkgirl blitzed him through a shelf, slamming her mace into his side. He flew into another shelf, which fell as he hit it and domino'd into another, then another, then another. Ducky stood up, holding his ribs. "Gracious. Have you guys ever tried _talking_ about your problems?"

The Hawks landed in front of him, and the boy looped the axe souvenir into his utility belt. "You choose to surrender?" Hawkman inquired.

"No. Why would you think that?"

Hawkgirl answered, "You laid down your arms."

Ducky winked. "I'm never unarmed." He raised his fists, like a boxer. Slowly, almost sickeningly, structures slid from the top of his wrist. There was one on each wrist, wickedly sharp. They were roughly eight inches long, until they angled slightly at the end, perfect for hooking and tearing, and appeared to be comprised of bone. He extended his arm and flipped his palm up, relinquishing the first move to the Hawks. They both took flight, Hawkman swinging at his feet and Hawkgirl going for his head. Ducky smiled and relaxed his body. Fire exploded into the Hawks' faces and they staggered back. Ducky leapt through the flames, expression and claws conveying ferocity. Right before colliding with Hawkman, he twisted over his head and hooked his helmet, which was tightly fixated on the hero's head. When Ducky landed, he brought Hawkman's head with him. Hawkgirl swung her mace, which crackled with electricity. The boy blocked with crossed claws, and he only gave a foot of ground at the impact. The lightning hopped off her weapon and was sucked into his claws, which held a cyan glow for a second. He rolled his shoulders.

"Thanks for the boost, Princess." She swung her mace again as Hawkman stood up with a punch. Ducky ducked her swing, turning to punch Hawkman. He sheathed that claw quickly and their knuckles cracked together. The boy pulled his mangled hand away while Hawkman stumbled from the force of the punch. Ducky then turned and stuck his knee high in the air, shifting his weight up so he could jump high and deliver a forceful crescent kick to Hawkgirl's face. His boot did connect with her helmet, and she rolled with the impact. The second he landed, she retaliated with a flying grab. She took him close to the ceiling before hurling him into the ground. She dived after him, preparing to deal a finishing blow. Ducky, however, landed on his feet, in a crouch, then sprung up to meet her. He landed a vicious uppercut, and she crashed to the ground. Hawkman beat his wings once for a mighty jump, and dealt two quick kicks, neither of which landed due to Ducky's agility. A claw found its way to the back of Hawkman's knee and ripped downward. Ducky grabbed Hawkman's other ankle and slung him into a shelf. "Even though you attacked me, I'll let you keep Al Capone on ice." Hawkman began to get up, so the boy hooked a claw into a shelf and pulled it down. It crashed onto Hawkman as he exited the building, pulling a stray feather out of his mouth with a disgusted expression.

The boy sheathed his claws and clicked a button on his belt, and his clothes shifted in appearance to an orange v-neck, a black hoodie jacket, jeans, and matching dark orange shoes. He walked down the streets of Midway City until he got to the slums. He got to his building, hopped onto the fire escape, and climbed up to his window. He entered, unhooking the axe from his belt and sinking it into the windowsill. The cluttered space is filled with various other trophies and trinkets, mostly weapons. He punched a button on his TV, and it blinked on. Pulling up a chair, he sat down and looked at the screen, where the Hall of Justice is shown, with the heroes escorting their sidekicks into the building. The boy spotted Batman sweep to the side for a second, and raise something to his mouth. At that second, a beeping sound rang out in Ducky's apartment.

He dived from his chair and followed the sound, dropping to the ground to check under the bed. He stuck his arm in, feeling for it. Finally finding his goal, he pulled it out to find a round container of Icebreakers. He sighed, checked it for mints, but found it empty, and tossed it to the side. He found the beeping device and clicked a button. "Carthage, come in."

"This is Carthage." He looked at the television. "Today's the day?"

As if he knew that Carthage was watching, Batman looked at the cameras, making eye contact. The boy heard him over the device.

"Today is the day."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Kameroni here, thanks for reading my story! I have a lot of plans for this little dabbling, up to my own season 3. Many of my twists are pulled from the comics but most of them are products of my own mind. By season 3 you can be expecting teenage Kyle Rayner and Constantine among others, I even have Simon Baz dealt in. Anyhow, I have plans, and to answer my reviewer Gretsky: Yes. There will be pairings. Not overwhelmingly, but there is definitely a fair amount. I tend to lean towards friendly or sibling-like dynamics, but I'll leave room for plenty of romance. Story comes first, though! Enjoy this chapter and hang tight for the ride!**

No Place Like Home

Isla de Velasco, July 5, 13:42

Carthage frantically swam through the salty sea. The ocean was stinging and merciless, and the waves had become the least of his worries, with the waters burning his eyes. He'd been swimming for hours, and at the moment he was grateful for his training. He'd scraped his knee on something and was bleeding in the water, he knew it was only a matter of time before he had a predator to deal with. He could see the island in the distance now. Just keep going, he thought.

His bones felt heavier now. He'd never liked the procedure that chemically bonded both stable and unstable Promethium to his bones, not just gifting him with a durable skeleton and claws, but also enabling him to absorb energy for his own physical gain. While functional, he loathed the enhancements. But Cadmus usually had their way. Carthage had little interest in reflecting on the past, so he focused on the movement of his body.

He felt movement in the water, just a slight ripple, and knew he was screwed. Swimming faster, he knew he couldn't look back. He just had to wager is was a type of shark he could outswim. How fast did Mako sharks move? Forty-some miles per hour? Yeah, that'd be the one to eat him. Carthage was hoping it wasn't a Mako shark. The island was just a quarter-mile away within five minutes. He didn't know where he was drawing from but he'd never been this fast before. Must be adrenaline or whatever hopped-up chemical he had in place of the usual. Teeth grazed his heel and he jerked his feet forward, whirling in the water and unsheathing his claws. He sliced through empty water as razor teeth sunk into his bare arm and drug him downward. Please, more blood, he thought. With a more accurate slice, the shark released him and sunk into the dark waters. Carthage resurfaced and swam to the beach. He laid on the hot sands, relishing the feel of earth. Recalling the impression he had to make, he stood tall, his latest injury in the process of healing. A jungle sat before him, and he realized he had to hike through it. God forbid he get picked up by friendly folk.

His black linen pants were dripping wet, but he realized what a good idea it was to forsake his leather armor. Besides, that suit fit the description of an unknown vigilante, and this island's inhabitants couldn't know that. Of course, being aware of the creatures that lived on this island, he wished he wasn't barefooted and shirtless. He could see the mountain, roughly a mile away, and he knew that was where he needed to go. "Well, I'm off to see the wizard..." Carthage mumbled. He walked to the edge of the jungle, and because he couldn't help himself, clicked his heels.

Jogging through the jungle was the simple task. The difficult part was revealing himself to the right person. If it was Jack, he'd be screwed. If it was Rose, who knows what's happened to her since last he saw her. He ran his fingers through his tangled, damp hair, now brushed behind his ears. A plaza-like area lay before him, made up of white marble with matching stairs leading up to a mansion that he was told had been standing since the Age of Exploration, all built at the foot of a craggy mountain. He could just barely make out a figure working on some sort of machine. Seeing long, very tanned legs, he decided it wasn't Jack and stealthily approached, constantly sweeping the plaza for other people. When he got within a few feet of the bent over figure, he realized who it was. And gracious, were her shorts _short_. He looked at the sky and cleared his throat. The girl stood and turned, and seeing Carthage, grinned widely. Carthage, however, was questioning if she believed in clothes or not. In addition to the shorts was a low cut, cropped top that showcased her extremely toned stomach and hips. But then again, he was wearing just about as much and it was hot. Maybe he was just old-fashioned.

She squealed in glee, and gripped him in a rib-crushing hug. "Ducky!"

He returned the hug, "Hey, Terra. It's been a while." He relaxed his arms, but Terra continued to hug him tight. "You've really grown up, huh? How long have I been gone?"

"Way too long." She pulled away and grabbed his hand, bounding up the stairs, Carthage in tow. In all the movement, he managed to take special note of how her green-blue eyes caught the light. They didn't do that before. At least he didn't think so. Her sheer black hair whipped back and hit him in the face more than once. They practically burst through the door and into the palatial entrance hall. Stairs wrapped around both sides to the next floor. Terra shouted out, "Rose! Jack! Leo!"

'Jack', he thought in a panic. 'Oh, please no.'

But there was worse than Jack in the house. "Welcome back, Carthage." The voice sounded from behind the rail of the second floor.

"Hi, Dad."

"My study. Immediately."

Carthage nodded and gave Terra a last smile, who looked a little disappointed. He wanted to ask a favor of her, to keep his presence secret from Jack, but he decided against it. Why should he be afraid of Jack? Carthage climbed the stairs, already knowing the way to his dad's office. The door to the dim, sunlit study was ajar, waiting for him. He entered, and the door slammed behind him. Slade, clad in a baby blue button up shirt that was tight across his imposing musculature, stood over his son. "Why have you returned?"

"You were right."

Silence ensued for a moment, before Slade gestured impatiently. "About?"

"The world. It sucks. I need money. I need training. I'm not good enough, got banged up by the Hawks. Tried the hero thing, and no one is fond of a clawed, fire-slinging vigilante. Besides, I'm better suited for this work."

Slade inclined his head, his grey eyes sparkling with amusement. "That's not all."

"What do you mean?"

"Come on, don't make me spell it out for you."

"I genuinely have no clue what you mean." Carthage was holding in a shudder. Deathstroke couldn't be _that_ clever. He'd have to be psychic.

"Don't try to play me for a fool." Dear God his father was psychic and- "You missed us!"

Carthage chuckled in a semi-embarassed manner. "Looks like you have me figured out, pops."

"I saw you ran into Terra. She really blossomed since you left, huh? Thinking about getting in on that?"

"I don't need a Delilah in my life. You taught me that."

"True, true. Your room is just as you left it."

"Just as I left it?"

"Just as you left it. We'll have a banquet for your return tonight. Training and testing in the morning, we have to make sure you haven't lost your edge. And welcome back, son."

Carthage nodded as Slade opened the door for him. As he walked down the hallway, Slade shouted behind him, "And put a shirt on, for Pete's sake!"

Carthage walked down the hallway as his father watched with a swelling of pride. "So that's it?" A teen was leaning against the wall outside of Slade's office. He was lean and similar to Carthage in size, but more muscular. Slade turned to the icy-eyed teen. "What's it?"

"He's back in, just like that, and put on a pedestal?"

"Why shouldn't he be?"

The teen grunted and rolled his shoulders.

"He's the same as you, Jack. Whether you like it or not. Best get over it now, rather than in the field." Slade walked back into his office and shut the door. Outside, Jack fumed and marched away. Carthage, having missed this encounter, was walking down a high-ceilinged hall to his room. He found the unremarkable white door, homogenous to the rest of the house, and opened it. A bed lay far back in the large room, a dresser right next to it, with a massive empty carpet. A massive window was high on the wall. It used to be larger and actually led to a balcony, but Carthage had asked it be removed a while back. Streaks of blood stains coated the room, across the walls, floor, and even the ceiling. "Just as I left it..."

He trudged across the room, peeling off his damp pants, and collapsed onto his bed. He was granted roughly ten minutes of rest before there was a knock on his door. He groaned and thrashed in the sheets until he was wrapped tightly and covered. "Come in!"

The door swung open, and a very large, muscular blonde teenager stood there. He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly, and in a thick Russian accent he said, "Hello. My name is Leonid… the others want very much to see you."

Carthage sat up. "I see. Thanks, Leonid." Leo looked worriedly at the bloody room and nodded. He quickly shut the door. Carthage climbed out of bed and to his dresser. Opening drawers, he looked for clothes to wear. He suddenly wished he was a little more organized. At least enough to find something. Eventually, he found what he needed and tugged on a pair of khaki shorts and a sleeveless striped shirt. He glanced out the window and decided he needed sunglasses, especially with his… perception. So he rummaged through some more drawers before finding a pair of aviators and headed into the hallway.

As soon as he opened the door, he bumped into something soft. He stepped back, finding Terra. "Oh! I was just coming up to get you." She glanced over him while he shrugged. "Well, I'm on my way."

They marinated in an awkward silence for a minute before Carthage stepped out of his room. Terra immediately grabbed his hand and tugged him down the hallway. "I need to know what you want to eat for your banquet."

"You don't have to do that, Terra."

"I've wanted to learn how to for a while. What do you want?"

"Terra, I can cook just fine. Let me make everyone dinner."

A cool, rough voice with a slight accent cut through the air. "Always were a bit of a pansy."

Fear panged through Carthage but he beat it away. "Jack. The accent is new."

His brother circled him, his dual short katanas bound so tightly to his back that they didn't clank with any movement. Terra interrupted them, "He had a six-week mission in Australia and thinks he's hot stuff."

"But Ter, I am. You seemed to think so on that mission, at least. Say, little brother, what say you and I have a quick scrap, just to ensure you're not as slow as I think you are."

"Sure, lead the way."

"I meant right here, mate."

"You remember house rules?"

Jack smirked and unsheathed his short swords. "Loser cleans up the mess and does chores for a week."

Carthage's claws pop out and he stood waiting. Jack darted at him, both katanas slicing in a scissor. Carthage stuck both his claws between them, halting the swipe and shoving the weapons back. Carthage flipped backwards, kicking Jack in the jaw. Jack barely even registered the powerful kick and swung his katanas quickly in a series of swipes. Carthage methodically backpedaled, jerking parts of his body out of Jack's reach. Backed against a wall, Carthage hooked a claw behind a vase sitting on a pedestal and flung it at Jack. Water spilled out of it and over the floor as Jack sliced through the projectile, as Carthage leapt behind the distraction. In the blink of an eye, Jack flicked his wrist up and spires of ice grew from the water, fully halting Carthage. Jack slid around, hopped to the pedestal and up into the air, toppling the pedestal, and dealt a powerful spin kick that shattered the ice. Carthage slid across the floor and Jack stomped between his shoulder blades. Carthage groaned at the crack, and the pain and humiliation unlocked the very thing he strove not to be. Carthage flipped his body, sending Jack to the ground while he stood up, completely emotionless. He plunged a claw down, but Jack rolled to his feet. Carthage swung backwards, and Jack jumped back into a pillar, several of which supported the hallway of windows. Carthage pursued, swinging a claw that Jack ducked, which took a chunk out of the pillar. Carthage whirled around with a low kick that smacked into the side of Jack's head. Jack quickly recovered, trying to freeze Carthage's joints while backing away from the flurry of impossibly fast and powerful swipes.

Jack readied his katanas to end the fight. Carthage jumped up for a pouncing stab, but Jack had the reach. He thrusted up with his sword, which sunk into Carthage's stomach. He hung on the blade before Jack jerked it back and angled it so Carthage would fall to the ground. Terra kneeled by him, scowling up at Jack. Then a strong, authoritative voice rung out in the hall. "What is the MEANING of this!?"

Jack looked up, wide-eyed. "We were sparring, father, and-"

"You need to learn how far is too far, Jack. Carthage is your brother."

"Are you joking? He went merc on me, what-"

"Stop. I expect more from you, Jack. Terra, take Carthage to the infirmary and ensure he heals correctly. Jack... Clean up this mess."

Fuming, Jack grumbled, "Yes, father." Terra slipped her arms under the unconscious Carthage and heaved, hauling him up. She stumbled down the hall, supporting Carthage's weight and carrying him bridal-style. His swinging arms still had extended claws and one raked across her thigh and she grunted in pain. "Next time, Ducky, you're carrying me."


	4. Chapter 4

Family Dinners

Isla de Velasco, July 5, 19:12

Carthage jolted awake after a peculiar dream that took him back to Cadmus, but with Terra by his side. She'd received the experiments instead of him and had claws. She was impossibly depressed. He'd visit her late at night in the mansion when his enhanced hearing picked up her screams. He'd find her thrashing, her claws slicing through her mattress and walls. Her room was coated in blood instead of his. He'd gently wake her. She'd accidentally slice his face, but he'd shrug it off, it would heal. She wouldn't. So when she woke she would apologize, choking on her tears. Carthage would climb into her bed with her and sit. He'd stroke her hair while she cried because he'd never seen a more beautiful mess.

Then he woke up, insanely confused, because Terra was beside him and he didn't feel an ounce of that. She smiled brightly, and he noticed a bloody bandage wrapped around her thigh. "Did I do that?"

"It was an accident. Besides, with our salves, it won't even leave a scar."

"Still, it's not alright."

She giggled, "Thanks for the concern, Ducky, but I really am okay."

He saw the pale, shivering Terra. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure! It's just a scratch."

"If you say so." He sniffed the air. "Someone sautéed carne y camarón in picante sauce."

"That'd be round one of the banquet." She winked and pulled him out of bed, dragging him by his hand that had seemed to become the norm. "What else can you smell, Ducky?" She turned around and walked backwards in the darkened hallways, still holding his hand and making him a little uncomfortable, but Terra always was a touchy-feely sort. For one, he could smell the scent of her glossy hair. It was fruity, but the rest of her smelled of fresh soil. But that wasn't how he answered. "Blackened chicken, garlic mashed potatoes…. And corn?"

"On the cob or in kernels?"

He smirked, "I'm not that good."

"Too bad, Ducky. I was almost impressed." She turned back around and the ends of her hair tickled his exposed collar.

"That nickname needs to die."

"I think it's cute. Maybe if you told me your _real_ name..." she trailed off suggestively.

"Everything you need to know, you see before you."

"You say that, Ducky. You've changed so much since you left."

"So have you. Jack mentioned the, uh, mission to Australia." Terra was like his little sister, and he had to protect her. That explained the feeling. "What he said, you know. What was he talking about?"

"It was nothing, Ducky. I'll tell you later, right now, the night is about you." She smiled brightly once more as they exited the mansion and got outside, where a large, round booth sat, with a small fire in the middle of the table. Jack and Rose were arm-wrestling while Leo helped Slade in the outdoor kitchen. Terra slid into the booth next to Jack so Carthage wouldn't have to. After a few minutes of Slade and Leo exchanging witty conversation while cooking and teaching various idioms of the English language, Rose slammed Jack's hand onto the table. She laughed in victory as Leo brought the first wave of food over, the scalding hot plates resting harmlessly on his arm. With a wide smile, he handed out the entrees and slid next to Rose. "And here is yours, moy tsvetok."

Carthage laughed out loud, earning a couple of strange looks. He mouthed at Leo, 'I speak Russian'. The hulking teen's face reddened in embarassment. Slade brought two more plates over, one with sauces and the other covered in silverware. "What's all the chatter about?"

"Nothing, father," Rose said, her white hair veiling her expression. She definitely looked the most like their father, with her expressions and hair and eye color. Her facial structure favored that of her and Grant's mother, who divorced Slade upon learning his identity. Grant grew to resent his father and refused to go on as his protégé, Ravager. Instead, Rose took up the mantle while Grant struck out on his own.

"Before we eat, let's acknowledge our missing member. May James return home safely and soundly."

"Amen," the teens echoes in sincere accordance, out of personal tradition as opposed to faith. "Now Carthage, tell us about your encounter with the Hawks. Have you had any other encounters with the League?"

"Took out the pretty bird with a wicked airborne crescent kick. Buried the Hawkman in debris. I ran into Shazam once, he called down lightning and I absorbed it through the unstable Promethium in my bones. Used the boost to escape, still wasn't strong enough to take him on."

"What about the Batman?"

A second of silence followed as Carthage popped a piece of shrimp into his mouth. "Never met him. Almost glad I didn't. If any of the Leaguers could've caught me, it'd be him."

"Or Superman," Rose said.

"Or the Flash," Jack added.

"Or the Wonderful Woman," Leo said helpfully.

"He gets the point," Slade interrupted, "But you did good to be on your own for so long. Normally a person with your somewhat limited abilities would be captured, but you acted wisely."

"Thanks, dad."

Slade narrowed his eyes, so quickly it was imperceptible. His son was lying about something. He formulated a plan of action and how to implement it. "Oh, and kids, we have a new recruit coming in."

Half the table brightened, and half the table darkened. Rose and Jack weren't fond of strangers. Of course, Rose didn't think about the fact that Leo was once one of those recruits. Terra and Leo, however, were excited at the prospect of a new sibling. Slade took notice of how Carthage perked up. If his son was trying to play him, he wouldn't make it so blatantly obvious. Or would he? Or could he be doing it to contrast to the expected feigned disinterest? All he could gather was that his son was very different from when he last saw him, and therefore, very unpredictable.

"She's a speedster, and her name is Jesse. She was born and raised in Alabama, so the island and training will be a bit much for her at first. I spoke to her on my last trip, and she seemed very excited to come join us."

Carthage cleared his throat. "What is the nature of her abilities? Scientifically granted, genetic, or mystical?"

"Scientifically granted, from what I can tell. However, we may be in for a surprise."

"Think she's like one of the Flashes?"

Too obvious. Could he be genuinely curious or fishing for details? "It's a possibility. Where'd you set up shop while you were gone?"

"Midway City. It was a little crowded for me though."

Rose and Jack immediately picked up on the subtle test of loyalty. Terra slowly gathered what was happening. "Interesting. You knew there was League presence there."

"I was looking to join at the time."

Jack clenched his fist tight, bending the fork in his hand. "I see," Slade said. "What changed your mind?"

Carthage put his fork down to look his father in the eye. "A birdy bashed my skull in for capturing a high-priority villain."

Rose smirked and Leo looked horrified. "They break your head? That is awful!"

"I see," Slade said, slower than last time. "I hope that whatever you were looking for there, you find it here."

Carthage looked at his family, smiling because he genuinely couldn't help himself. "I think I will."

Covered by the table, he lightly elbowed Terra's arm. He then proceeded to devour his food. Slade's wristwatch began to beep, and he smiled. "Excuse me."

He slipped out of the booth and walked further away. "Conduct?"

On the island of Santa Prisca, a boy, roughly eleven years old was ducked behind a tree. He was clad in black Kevlar armor, with veins of purple, and gunfire exploded around him. "Conduct to Deathstroke, you hear me?"

"I hear you. Report." Laughter echoed behind him.

"You know how Bane is pretty much waging war against the Cult of Kobra?" He whirled out from behind the tree, a black composite bow drawn, and fired. "Well, it's escalated."

"How long can you hold out without compromising your cover?"

"That's the second matter. My cover is already compromised. Cultists walked in on me during my last transmission. I panicked and took them out. They didn't see my face but I didn't have the opportunity to assimilate back into their ranks. I'm blending into Bane's mercs right now. AH!"

"Conduct, are you okay?"

"Just a flesh wound. I'll be fine."

"I'm sending an extraction team with additional orders. They'll be there tomorrow night to assimilate into Bane's soldiers."

"No! Just… give me two weeks. I can handle this, Dad."

"Two weeks. If you're not back, Carthage and Scipio will be there in two hours. In the meantime, gather and secure usable quantities of this Kobra-Venom. Also, update files on Kobra associates and agents, and discover what exactly led them there. I want to know how they got their hands on Cadmus Special Projects."

"Yes sir. Thank you. Conduct out."

Slade sighed and went back to the table where Carthage was making shapes in the central fire. On Santa Prisca, Conduct ran a hand through his short chocolate hair. Sometimes he wondered exactly why he lived like this. 11 years old, and digging a bullet from his shoulder. Sometimes it felt like he was the only one who could do what he does. Sometimes it felt like everyone except him could do what he does. But he could prove himself here. He didn't want to be a killer, not really. But he was good at it. And people wanted him to be good at it.

He pulled the brass shell out and dropped it into the bushes, and the wound began to slowly heal. Rolling his shoulder to keep it from getting stiff, he snatched an arrow from his quiver and took off deep into the jungle.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Hello again! Thanks for reading this story up to this point, and I'm super sorry for the lack of updates. School, original works, you know. But I haven't forgotten my plans for Carthage. Enjoy and review!**

Electric Evening

Santa Prisca, July 6, 00:14

Lightning cracked down from a tree, knocking out a Kobra soldier. Conduct dropped to the ground, his gloved hand smoking. He switched his bow to the other hand and bent down over the soldier, patting him down. He looted a curved dagger and assault rifle. Conduct investigated it, throwing together a thin plan. Skirting the perimeter of the warehouse, he planted the rifle into the ground. He snuck back around, finding a vent cover high on the wall. He pulled an arrow out, and twisted the top. Conduct then fired it up into the grate, where it released a sizzling liquid. Quickly, Conduct scaled a nearby tree, and onto a sturdy branch, just ten feet below the vent. He got there just in time to catch the falling grate, half-melted. He formed a handful of crackling sparks, and directed them to the planted assault rifle. The sparks flittered through the night air until they made contact, and the weapon began to fire sporadically. Conduct leapt onto the wall and ran up to the grate, holding tight to it and worming his way in.

He crawled through the air ducts, and it was _cold_. He shivered and checked his suit for the time. He had a way into the factory. Now he could focus on objectives. Kobra was as big and shadowy as it got, it wasn't like someone could be behind them. And if there was, then only Lord Kobra would know about it. That was who he had to tail, then. The Big LK had lots of meetings, where Shimmer and Luster stood guard outside. If someone was behind a man who thought himself to be a god, he'd be meeting with them then.

James had to get into one of those meetings.

Isla de Velasco, July 6, 01:47

"How'd you know I was out here?" Carthage was sitting on a white sandy beach far from the mansion.

"Because it's where I would be."

"Are you just going to stand there or are you going to come sit next to me?" With a slight shower of sand, Terra settled next to him under the bright and starry sky. For Carthage, it was the most peace he'd had in a long time. But the turmoil was building in him like a bonfire. He was lying about who he was, not just to his family, not just to the Batman, but to himself. He couldn't find the truth, not yet, and it ate at him. These moments of silence, he longed to fill them with his frustrated cries.

For Terra, it was elemental. Sand in between her fingers as waves crashed upon the shore. The wind in the upper atmosphere and gentle sea breeze that ruffled hair. The fire in the amber eyes of the boy next to her, the most complex element in all the earth. She could never decipher him. But there was something new to him, something made of light. Because the last Carthage she met was bloody depression and darkness. Someone that scared her, but someone that had to be fixed. She felt like someone beat her to the job, and she could never be that to him. But something in the faulty smile, but something in the shine of amber eyes, something in the way he slouched his shoulders when he thought everyone had looked away… "Why won't you tell me what's inside of you?" She realized what a foolish question that was.

Carthage smiled sadly because he understood her. "Because I can't. Not even if I tried."

Silence settled over them as the wind whistled by their ears. Terra whispered. "Let me see you try."

"I never thought I'd miss this stupid island. But I'm back now. I don't even know why I came back."

Terra had hoped it was for her.

Carthage wished he could say it was for her. Before he left, he hadn't the slightest clue of something like love or passion. But in the world, he witnessed it. When he came back, he felt it. Or something similar. He didn't want to be attached because he'd break both of their hearts.

"Tell me what makes you sad."

Carthage scoffed. "I can't tell you. You're too smart. I won't have any excuse to sulk if you solve my problem for me."

"Something is hurting you. And you know better than most that you can only take so much hurt."

"You know it even better."

Terra looked at the sand between her knees. "It's not about me."

"Tell me what makes you sad, Terra," he said, mimicking her concise but peculiar words.

"A lot of things. It's hard here. Just... don't leave again."

"I won't be leaving anytime soon." His heart bled as soon as he said it.

Terra smiled and met his eyes, such a sweet smile with unfathomably deep, sea-green-blue eyes. Carthage nearly screamed because the bonfire behind his sternum was growing to be scorching. How could he betray his family? How could he betray Terra? For the greater good? What would be the purpose if he lost all in his life that was good? But it wasn't about him. No. There was so much hope and so much light in her eyes. And his decision could singlehandedly destroy or save it. Destroy himself, or destroy her.

Either way... they would both end up destroyed.

Jack spent his nights in the gym. He didn't need to sleep but once a week. Other than that, he trained, to perfection when it came. Deathstroke's first rule is that there is no apex. There is always betterment. But Jack was seeking to find the apex that Deathstroke didn't have. If his father wouldn't recognize his power and skill, he would show him when he surpassed the master.

And his _brother_.

Carthage always got the attention he didn't deserve. Carthage didn't work for _anything_. Jack worked to get better? Carthage got more powers. Jack mastered a new weapon? Carthage became one. So Jack trained. Hitting harder, lifting heavier, running faster. He cleaned up the gym before morning. On more than one occasion he had destroyed equipment, thrown weights through walls. He'd run combat simulations in the basement when it was empty. If he did it at night he'd wake everyone.

Jack felt that he got the least respect of anyone in the house. He almost had it made. His father was patting him on the back, giving him bigger missions. He had Terra, if only for a few nights. Leo would admire him in front of the family. Even Rose told him good job. Then Carthage came back. Something in Terra already awakened and she let him know she wanted nothing else to do with him. But when Carthage came back... It went back to the way it was before the experiments. And he hated it. He _earned_ things. He worked for Terra. But she threw herself at Carthage. He worked to be better. But betterment laid itself out for Carthage. He worked for Slade to give him a smile and call him son. But he did it for Carthage every ten minutes.

But that was alright, he thought.

I am Scipio. The man who conquered Carthage long ago. That's why he'd taken the name. Out of spite.

 _Though I fall, I will rise again._

Rose was already just like her father, and she didn't need to hear about it. That's what she liked about Leo. To everyone else, she was the emotionless Wilson clone, but to Leonid, she was unique and beautiful. He thought she was loyal, not merciless. Afraid, not wary. And he was usually right. After all, she was a teenage girl, not a grizzled terminator. But her father saw her just as his perfect little girl, his feminine mirror image. And she hated it. Don't get her wrong, she loves her father. He's her father. But he doesn't treat her like her own person. Not who she is, but how he thinks she should be. It wasn't fair, but she had Leo, she supposed. She could try talking to Carthage. He'd didn't seem to be lost in his own little world of sulking and blues anymore. In a way, she thought, she was the strongest and the most vulnerable. Grant had no loyalty, Jack no self-control, and Carthage had no focus, no drive. Rose had all of those things, but she was more human than any of her brothers.

It confused her.

It infuriated her.

It scared her.

Welcome to the Wilson family.


End file.
